I didn’t say anything. They wouldn’t believe any explanation I could give for the state of the car, so I figured it was safer not to offer any. And I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for answers from the glass fragments. I already knew it was a blue Chevy pickup that had hit me, but in this area of rednecks and good old boys, that narrowed it down to, oh, say fifty thousand suspects, give or take ten thousand.
“Look, Kara,” he said, leaning back in his chair and grimacing, “I hate to rag on you since you’ve just been through all that, but I got a call from Mandeville PD.”
I winced. “Captain, I know I was out of line there. I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah, you were completely off base,” he said with a scowl. “There’s already a shitload of pressure to get this case closed, and now our only suspect in the Davis Sharp case is dead, by suicide, with a confession, right? So what’s the damn issue? Let’s get this case closed and get everyone off our backs.”
“I’ll tell you what the damn issue is, sir,” I said, matching his scowl and forgetting to censor my words into a properly respectful tone. But I’d been through enough shit lately that I was pretty much beyond caring about tact and diplomacy. “Yes, Elena Sharp is dead, but she was never a strong suspect, and due to inconsistencies at the scene in Mandeville, I have serious doubts about whether or not she killed herself. To close the case now by naming her the killer is not only grossly unfair to both her and Davis Sharp, it will also allow whoever did kill them to go free.”
He narrowed his eyes and made a hmmfing sound. “Well … I can respect that. Do what you feel is right.” Then he fixed me with a glare. “But if you ever act up like that on a scene again—especially with a cooperating agency—I’ll suspend you so fast your goddamn little head will spin. Y’got me?”
I gave him the properly acquiescent nod he was expecting. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.” I knew I was damn lucky that he wasn’t suspending me anyway.
He blew out his breath, once again reminding me of a bulldog. “One more thing. You’ve been recommended for an FBI task force dealing with white-collar crimes and other special circumstances.” I thought for an instant he was going to roll his eyes, but he managed to restrain himself and limited it instead to merely a sour expression. “Chief Turnham has already approved it. You’d be working with Special Agents Ryan Kristoff and Zachary Garner.” He settled his glare onto me. “Don’t think this will relieve you from having to take your share of cases in this jurisdiction, though.”
“No, sir, of course not,” I answered, caught more than a little off guard by the abrupt announcement of the recommendation. “Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.”
He snorted. “Thank the chief, not me. I think it’s bullshit.” He shook his head, and I had to hide a smile at his stark honesty. “That’s all.” He waved a hand at me in dismissal, and I gladly took the opportunity to leave.
After departing my captain’s office, I continued on out of the station. Technically, I was on medical leave for another day, which gave me a perfect opportunity to finally take care of the warding on Tessa’s house and that damn portal. I headed to my aunt’s house—stopping first at the Kwik-E Mart to buy Oreos and chocolate ice cream. The last twenty-four hours had been hell, and I needed all the chocolate and fat I could get my hands on right now.
I mentally reviewed the conversation with my captain as I drove. I definitely deserved the dressing-down I’d received over my behavior at Elena’s condo, and even I could admit that the only reason that I hadn’t been rewarded with unpaid days off was because of the accident. In that respect, I should probably be grateful to my attacker.
Of course, that was the only respect. I’d had to push my credit card dangerously close to its limit in order to replace my gun and holster as well as my phone, though I was holding out a ridiculous hope that the department insurance would cover some of it. Wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace.
I climbed the steps of Tessa’s house and did a quick othersight scan of the front-door area but didn’t feel anything amiss this time. The aversions were still in place and apparently unaltered. I sighed and pushed in after unlocking the door, then headed to the kitchen and shoved the ice cream into the empty freezer. The piece of paper that had the names and lines and circles was still on the kitchen counter—our attempt to find some sort of connection between the murders. I folded the paper and stuffed it into my bag. After losing my notebook in the river, I knew I would need to start re-creating as much as I could remember.